


hard to air out in deep water

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Casual Cissexism, Coercion, Confusion, Consent Issues, Culture Shock, Dirty Talk, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Humanstuck-ish, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Nook Eating, Nook Fingering, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use, Victim Blaming, incesty vibes, kinda incest but not actually incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-05-31 15:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19429291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Gamzee is sent to Earth to finish out his schoolfeeding. While there, he learns a few things about human culture and develops an unhealthy relationship with his foster brother, Kurloz.





	1. twistin' me up like licorice

**Author's Note:**

> firstly, i started this fic about five years ago. i recently got in the mood to write again and thought, hey, i always wanted to finish that one story where gamzee's a troll and kurloz is human and things happen. so, yeah, if the style is inconsistent anywhere in this story, that's why. it's also because i wrote most of this while high and didn't have anyone beta it.
> 
> secondly, this is set in a world where young trolls are sent to earth for whatever reason. make one up in your head! the backstory i've come up with is that after making contact with earth, the alternian government developed a more humane way of dealing with trolls deemed useless or unfit for society, which is to just send them off to earth for either a small period of time as rehabilitation, or for the rest of their lives. i may or may not expand on this in the story. it's probably just going to be smut and angst, but we'll see!
> 
> another thing, gamzee is 18 in human years here, finishing up high school/schoolfeeding, and kurloz is college aged, so probably around 20 to 22. they're both adults, but most of the sex portrayed in this story isn't fully consensual. let me make it clear that i do _not_ condone kurloz's actions here. this is as much a vent piece as it is a look at the fucked up dynamic these two have, or could have in this world. sometimes you just gotta process your trauma through gamzee the clown! needless to say, if you're uncomfortable reading about dub-con situations, i do not recommend this fic.
> 
> i was originally going to make this a lot fluffier, but i don't think it's the right fic for that. maybe next time!
> 
> lastly, i know this story is strange and nasty. but that's okay, you gotta keep life Zesty. i hope you enjoy it anyway!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are weird on Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for coercion, both sexual and pertaining to drug usage.

Your first week on Earth, you learn that humans are _loud_. Back at your hive on Alternia, the waves crashed against the beach with a heavy rumble each night and the storms lasted perigees, but humans… you can’t even deal with those motherfuckers. You’re used to a loud world, sure, not loud _people_. The overpopulation on their planet might have something to do with it.

Humans are also weak, both mentally and physically. This is something you’ve observed at all levels - at home and at school, humans display their cowardice every day. Your hatchmates try to assert their dominance over each other with jeers, with bullying, and when things get real fuckin’ ugly, with violence. You were accustomed to all of that on Alternia, but trolls always carry through when propositioned to fight. A human would run away with his tail between his legs if he had one. 

You’ve seen your foster father, as they call it, maybe once so far. You wonder why he offered to foster you if he wasn’t going to actually be around for it. History always seems to repeat itself for you.

And don’t even get a motherfucker started on human schoolfeeding. That shit is some ass-backwards wackness if you ever saw it. It’s somehow even worse than the steaming pile of hoofbeastshit that Alternia calls education. No one likes you, none of your classes are worth paying attention to, and you gotta ride in a big yellow vehicle where you’re the _only_ troll and the fuckers in the seats behind you don’t know how to shut the hell up. The moment the vehicle starts moving, the humans open their mouths and they don’t close them for the whole ride. There’s paper thrown, music blasted from portable speakers, and chatter that seems like white noise if you can ignore it long enough.

Your human-brother-thing, Kurloz, has a car. You know the name of that, at least - you’ve seen a few advertisements for them, and the basic concept was explained when you were transferred to Earth. You'd definitely prefer if you could just drive one of those instead of riding with the humans, but you don’t really know how. The vehicles on Alternia are nothing like what they have here. You guess you’ll have to ask him for a ride on Monday… but you’d rather avoid the motherfucker like the plague. It’s nothing personal, you just really ain’t the keenest on humans.

You run to your respiteblock as soon as you’re home, and decide, officially, to never come out. If you thought Alternia was bad, it has nothing on Earth. Everything is so familiar yet alien, just slightly off from what you’re used to. If you were to squint at a human in a dark room, you’re sure they could pass for a troll. And someone brought what you could have sworn was a meowbeast to your schoolfeeding today, tucked away in their jacket, and laughed at you for what you called it. How the fuck were you supposed to know those furry fuckers had a different name on Earth? Man, that’s another thing you hate about humans. Anyone who ain’t on the same page is just a joke to them. Nobody wants to explain anything to the new guy.

You toss all your shit on the floor and throw yourself onto the human sleeping platform, feeling instant relief wash over your body. Thank the Messiahs it’s the end of the schoolfeeding week. If you had to take another day, you would’ve up and lost it. You close your eyes and let out a sigh. You are _really_ not looking forward to Monday.

A soft breeze tickles across your skin. You must've left your window open last night when you were chillaxin'. The cool sensation relaxes you as you breathe in the fresh air. You finally allow your muscles to untense. This week has had you stressed all to hell, but you’re going to just chill the fuck out this weekend, take a few days to yourself. You deserve it. 

Music erupts from the room next to yours.

You are murderous.

You shoot up and bolt out of the room. You are abso-fucking-lutely _done_ , and if this fucker wants to play games, you can play 'em too.

“Motherfucker, if you don’t turn that shit off I’m gonna knock this door down and beat your ass with it!” you yell as you bang on his respiteblock door. You almost fall on your face when he opens it. You’re greeted by not only a shirtless Kurloz, but some chick you didn't even see come in, and, oh, she’s shirtless too. She pulls a blanket over her chest, trying to stifle a giggle. Kurloz makes no move to cover himself.

You wish you were allowed to bring your facepaint with you, because you’re pretty sure they can both see the purple blush creeping up your neck. 

“Really?” he says, just barely audible over the music. “I’m in the middle of something.” He's visibly annoyed, but his voice is husky and breathless and his face is kind of flushed and you feel… something. Something weird. Something not quite right. You glance between him and the girl, feeling anxious, like a wriggler who was just caught by their lusus doing something they’re not supposed to, and suddenly all your anger is gone and you just want to leave. 

But the music is still playing. The music is still playing at an _intolerable_ fucking volume, and it’s overwhelming you at this point. You try asking nicely, looking at your feet as you speak.

"Sorry, I -"

"WHAT YOU SAYIN’, BRO? THESE SICK ASS BEATS BE LOUD AS FUCK."

“Listen man, I’m sorry,” you start. You look up and raise your voice so he can hear you. "Just, I had a real tough week and I’d up and appreciate a little peace and quiet, ‘s all!”

You try to read his face, try to determine if he's getting pissed or if he's going to hear you out, but it's completely blank besides narrowed, dark eyes. Out of the handful of times you’ve interacted with the guy, Kurloz has always seemed okay enough. Not real chatty and maybe a little closed off, but you don’t see nothin’ wrong with that. You expect him to understand where you're coming from - your request ain’t unreasonable, you think, and he could at least turn it _down_ \- but all he does is roll his eyes and slam the door in your face. The music continues at the same piercing level. Your ears pull back reflexively. You want to cry.

So you just… go back to your respiteblock. There's not much else you can do, you figure, and you're feeling uncomfortable in about five different ways. You think they were about to pail. No. What age is it socially acceptable for humans to pail at? You don’t know. There's nothing about this species that doesn't confuse the shit out of you.

You think you recognize the third song he plays (not that you're listening).

You feel weird for the rest of the night.

  


━━━━━━━━━━━━━

  


It's almost one in the morning when Kurloz opens your door. Motherfucker doesn't even bother knocking.

You’re curled up in a beanbag chair that was there when you arrived. Shit was kind of dusty, but you cleaned it right up and decided to put it to good use. His voice, deep and low, cuts through the darkness.

"Yo, come to my room. I got a most gracious peace offering for you." 

If that ain't the most ominous invitation you've ever received, you don't know what is. But you take him up on it anyway.

"Uh, sure."

You follow him into his respiteblock and, yeah, you definitely know the song he puts on this time. Hokus Pokus by ICP, you’d recognize that shit anywhere. The music is quiet now - obviously, since the girl is gone and it's just you and him, and he ain't about to get his pail on with you, so there's no reason to… you cut that train of thought off. You don't know why you're thinking about him like that.

"What exactly is this whole peace offering gettin' to be, my brother?"

He sits down on his human sleeping platform without answering you and takes a… _thing_ from the table beside it. The room is dark and it’s small, but you think you've seen something like it before. A cigarette, maybe? As you investigate it, you notice that the paper is loose, like it was hand-rolled. He fiddles with it for a moment.

"Y'all got weed on Alternia?" he asks. He looks up from what he’s doing to raise his eyebrows and motion his head toward the empty space beside him. Something about him, about everything, is setting off alarms in your thinkpan. You don’t know what it is - new situations always make you uncomfortable, you guess.

"Uh, yeah, I mean, we got weeds and shit." 

He chuckles.

"Sit down, man."

You sit.

Some of your unease dissipates when he plugs in the small lamp on his nightstand. You find yourself staring at his hands as he pulls what you assume is a lighter out of the pocket of his sweatpants. Wordlessly - without even asking - he hands the lighter and cigarette to you. You gape awkwardly.

"Uh, bro, no offense but how the fuck is this a peace offering? I don't smoke this shit." You haven't got the first fucking clue what to do here, and you don't understand why he thought this would make you feel any better. You ain't gotta be human to know cigarettes are bad. That was actually one of the first things you learned. He snorts.

"Shit, I thought you were gonna instruct me here," he jokes. "Your ass is really tellin' me you ain't the full-time stoner I thought you were? Damn, that's disappointing, bro." He shakes his head, grinning.

You don't really know what to say, or what a stoner is, so you don't reply. After a moment of silence, he laughs again and takes them from you.

"You've never smoked weed before? C'mon, how long you been on Earth, man? A month? A year?" he asks before putting the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it. He takes a long drag and doesn't exhale for several seconds.

"Uh, 'bout a week, I think."

He nods and passes it to you once again, practically forcing the lit cigarette into your hands.

"Bro," you say, a little frustrated, "I don't know what you're tryna do, I just told you I don't smoke this shit. Cigarettes are fuckin' nasty." You hold it out to him, watching as smoke dances on the building embers. He laughs again at your reluctance.

"Nah man, this ain't a cigarette. It's called a joint. I'm sure they got something like this on your planet, yeah? Something that helps you get your chill on?" You shrug. Yeah, sopor slime chilled you out, but it was bad for you. It took you a long time to realize that. Still... you gotta admit that sometimes you miss the way it made you feel. You stare silently at the joint between your fingers for a few long moments. He takes it from you at last, only to press it to your lips. "Come on," he says - no, demands. You feel yourself flushing again, like you’re back in the doorway looking up at him.

Okay, fine. You’re willing to give this joint thing a try. Hesitating, you put your lips around it and inhale. The smoke is thick and you burst into a coughing fit when it hits your throat. You hack and wheeze for a minute before Kurloz shoves something cold into your hand. It takes you a hot second to figure out what it is - you _cannot_ stop coughing, and you feel slow and hazy, not unlike when you were on the slime. You want to shout your praise to the Messiahs when you realize you’re holding an ice cold bottle of water. You’ve never been as happy as you are in this moment.

“Oh fuck -” _cough_ “- yes!” You hungrily gulp down half the bottle while Kurloz laughs. When your thirst is finally quenched and you’re done coughing, you laugh too. Everything is fuckin’ hysterical right now. Kurloz says something so funny that you fall backwards in laughter, and halfway through you get distracted by the soft texture of the blanket on your skin. You rub your arms against it slowly, thoroughly enjoying it, and realize you’re giggling. Or is that Kurloz? No, that’s you, but he’s also laughing. He has a nice laugh, you think to yourself. You can't believe you just noticed that! You’re so dumb. 

There's a slight twitch between your legs that you barely register.

“Man, you are hella fucked up,” he says. You nod. Yeah, you are. You tell him that. "You only took one hit, dude." You don't know why, but that makes you laugh again. 

The joint - which you had forgotten about completely, if you’re being honest - is suddenly in your hands again, courtesy of a very amused Kurloz. You got this. No sweat. Putting the end in your mouth, you take a massive hit, inhaling a shit ton of smoke. You think you spit on yourself a little when you cough this time. You don’t really care, though, and you don’t think Kurloz does either. You sit up to take another drink of water before flopping back down, dazed. It feels like someone stuck their hand down your throat and raked their nails up the insides.

You may have gotten a little too confident there.

“Yeah, that’s enough for you,” he says, slowly. It sounds like he’s halfway across the room, but he leans over you to take the joint, so you figure it’s just a side effect of the… weed, he said it was? Huh. Yeah, that sounds right.

The way his fingers brush against yours pulls at something in your gut. As he sits back up, you can’t stop your eyes from tracing over the sharp edge of his jaw and down his neck. You realize he took the water from you too - his Adam’s apple bobs as he finishes it off. Why are you staring at him? Your mouth is suddenly very dry.

“Uh, hey, we got any other beverages up in this bitch?” you ask. Talking is weird. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. 

He nods and turns his head, looks down at you. The uncomfortable feeling from earlier resurfaces for a split second. You shove it out of your mind.

“We do indeed, my man.” He gets up and stretches before throwing the empty bottle out. It’s at that moment that you feel something cool and wet against your thigh and, horrified, realize two things: 

1\. You didn’t bother getting dressed when Kurloz barged into your respiteblock, which means you're still in just your boxers and a shitty old T-shirt.

2\. There's a growing spot on the front of your goddamn boxers from where your nook has been dripping for some unimaginable reason. 

Your fight or flight response kicks in. You think maybe you can run back to your respiteblock while Kurloz leaves to get the drink, grab some pants or change your boxers. Or, better yet, just hide out there for the rest of the night. You start to get up, but all hope is crushed when Kurloz simply bends down to reach under the sleeping platform. Your foot brushes his shoulder. Your breathing is loud and your mouth is still so dry.

After rustling around for a little bit, he emerges with another bottle of water and you think about how weird humans are, to store shit where they sleep. It's kind of smart, though.

You're silently praying to the Messiahs that Kurloz won't notice your… situation. He’ll never want to talk to you again. Frantically, you try covering the spot with your hands, try changing positions, try wiping at it. You try everything you can, but it's too late. He's looking down at you with his brows raised and eyes wide. His poker face won’t reveal anything else, but he definitely saw. Your bloodpusher hammers in your chest and you just want to hide.

"You good, bro?" he asks, vague enough to give you hope that maybe he didn't actually see anything. You nod, trying to cover yourself by leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees.

"For sure, man," you say with an easy smile. You try to relax. Maybe if you can just pretend nothing is wrong, you can get this whole thing over with and retreat back to your respiteblock.

You don't know the song that's playing now, but you're definitely into it. Swaying a little, you close your eyes and let the music flow through your body.

"Yeah, I'm just asking 'cause it looks like you might've pissed yourself." 

You freeze. Your thinkpan tries to conjure up an excuse, but everything is fuzzy and slow, like you're covered in molasses from inside out.

"No, I… that ain't -"

"I'm just fuckin' with you," he says as he sits down beside you. Too close. The alarms are going off again. _Too close too close too_ \- "Y'know, I've fucked trolls before, Gamzee." And suddenly his hand is on your leg, stroking the skin below your boxers. It’s hard to see anything in his dimly lit respiteblock, but you feel his long fingers sliding up the inside of your thigh, sneaking just a little too close to your nook. You can't think straight. Your pan is yelling _leave leave leave_ but your limbs are heavy and there’s a growing heat between your legs that’s getting harder to ignore.

"I… what are you - what are you doing, bro?" 

You try to squirm away when his fingers start snaking up the leg of your boxers, but he easily overpowers you, forcing you onto your back with his arm to your chest. He looks down at you and smiles.

"Nothin', man. Just let me help a brother out," he says casually, like he's offering to do literally anything else for you. Something in his eyes makes you shiver, and you don’t know if it’s out of arousal, fear, or both. "That shit be looking all types of uncomfortable.”

You focus your line of sight on the ceiling, trying to ground yourself. You swallow and take in a shaky breath. You've never pailed before, and the idea of pailing so freely with someone you're not in a quadrant with unnerves you a little. It's one of those things about human culture that you don't quite get.

He gets off of you when he realizes you won't ( _can't_ ) put up a fight, leaning back on his other arm so that his face is right next to yours. You can hear him breathing almost as heavily as you, can just barely make out a scar cutting through the very top of his upper lip, and another above his eyebrow. There's a light dusting of freckles across his cheeks. His eyes, dark and half-lidded, meet yours. You think that he looks kind of handsome. Part of you would love to let him fuck you, but another part is blasting sirens off again and telling you to push him away and run.

You don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they fuck in the next chapter ;o)
> 
> let me know what you think!


	2. too much too fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get weirder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright friends, please pay attention to the tags. this chapter contains sexual content of an _extremely_ dubious nature. i mean, this is pretty much straight-up rape. seriously.

There’s a long moment where you and Kurloz just stare at each other in the dark, like you're trying to communicate telepathically. His warm, large hand comes to rest on your stomach as he hovers over you. He doesn't break eye contact when he speaks, voice low. You struggle to hear him over the distant sounds of rap. The songs are unidentifiable in your haze, all the words and melodies blending together at this point. 

"You gonna let me, bro?"

"Uh, I mean…" you mumble, unsure how to respond. The question hangs heavily in the air until your thinkpan spits something out. "I - I guess."

He must take that as consent, because his hand is down your boxers and spreading you open before you can even process what's happening. 

Your legs twitch involuntarily when he rubs his thumb against the little nub right at the top of your nook, pulling a noise from you that you didn’t even know you could make. That sure gets your fuckin' attention - his too, apparently. He keeps doing it, and soon the room is filled with the slick, wet sounds of his hand on you, rivaled in volume only by your reluctant moans and the incoherent music in the background. You try to stop the noises coming out of your mouth but everything is just so _much_ and it feels like you're drowning, like you ate too much slime and took a nap on the beach right before high tide.

He slides a finger inside your nook, crooks it up against the underside of your still-sheathed bulge and you actually fucking _shriek_ , what the _fuck_. You usually ain't the most vocal motherfucker when jerking yourself off, but you admit you haven’t really explored this area much. You usually just tug at your bulge until you're satisfied.

You grab onto his arm as he fingers you, not trying to stop him but not pulling him closer, just sort of clinging. He rubs his finger against something particularly sensitive and a series of broken sounds bubble out of you, rising from your chest and getting louder as he continues. You realize at some point that you’re digging your claws into his skin. He pulls his hand away and you're about to apologize, afraid you hurt the poor motherfucker, before he speaks.

"I'm gonna take these off," he says, tugging insistently at your boxers, and he does, just lifts your legs up and slides 'em right off. They disappear into a pile across the room. You feel like a sack of potatoes. Distantly, you wonder where the water bottle went.

You let your eyes explore his respiteblock, or at least what you can see of it from your position, while he gets busy downstairs. You've never really gotten a good look at the place. It's kind of messy, but not messier than yours. Various human band posters cover the dark grey, near-black walls. You feel him spreading your legs, poorly managing to contain a moan when he slides a finger through the wet folds of your nook.

“It's okay bro, you really ain’t gotta -” you try, because it's worth a shot, but he's quick to cut you off.

“Don’t worry about it. I got you." With no further room for argument, he slides a finger back inside you - no, that’s definitely more than one finger. There’s a stretch as you feel, yeah, two of his long ass fingers filling your nook. He presses them up against your bulge again, which twitches and just barely starts to unsheathe.

Paying no attention to your emerging bulge, his thumb finds the nub at the base of it again, and you can’t help the breathy moan that escapes you. Embarrassed, you turn your face away from him, trying to bite down the noises threatening to pour out. He makes some sort of comment about how wet you are. Your ears twitch and pull back. It feels like you're on fire, like you've been sitting out in the cruel Alternian sun for too long. You curl your fingers in the sheets and try to control your respiration.

“O-oh fuck,” you gasp out. His hands ain't unskilled, you'll give him that. You wonder how many trolls, how many people he's pailed. Your mind drifts to earlier in the evening, when you had accidentally interrupted his concupiscent activities. You allow yourself to fantasize about what might have happened if you’d joined in, and the mental image of getting pailed by him for real has you coming around his fingers so fast you don’t know what hit you. 

You try to warn him about how messy trolls are but nothing comes out, your mouth hanging open uselessly. He fingers you relentlessly through your orgasm, one of your horns scratching the wall loudly as you throw your head to the side, shaking. He doesn't ease up until you're breathlessly begging him to pull his fingers out.

His traces them along your nook almost gently, working you through the last waves of pleasure. You feel like you're floating on top of the softest fuckin' cotton candy-ass clouds as you sink slowly back to Earth.

As you come down, you realize that was the first time anyone's ever touched you there. While you've never really given it too much thought, you'd always had some general expectations for your first time pailing, just like every other troll does. You thought maybe after a long, romantic date with a matesprit, you'd wander into their pile and mess around, eventually filling a bucket up with your beautiful colors, or maybe a kismesis would challenge you to a strife that'd end with your back to the floor as they pin you down.

Does it even count as pailing if no bucket was used? You don't know. Technicalities aside, you never pictured yourself fucking a human, or even having the desire to. Confusion and frustration, but also arousal and pure animal _want_ \- something both humans and trolls can understand - tug at you.

Cringing, you realize that despite the copious amounts of genetic material dripping down your thighs, your nook is still getting wetter. 

Kurloz leaves your side and you're thanking the Messiahs it's over, because that whole experience was awkward and embarrassing as fuck, and you honestly just want to forget it. You don't give a shit what your hormone-driven body wants, you'd rather not spend the next nine perigees feeling weird as hell around the guy you gotta live with. This shit was degrading enough for both of you. You hope that maybe you can still be bros after this if he doesn't think you're the grossest motherfucker to ever exist.

But then you feel him spreading your legs further, lifting them up over his shoulders, and you look up in time to see him settle on the floor with his head between your legs. Holy shit, he is _not_ going to do what you think he's about to - is he going to suck your bulge? There's no fucking way.

You're still trembling, still recovering from what just happened. You ain't any closer to being sober than you were when he started with this shit and you really don't know if you want it to continue, but apparently you don’t have a choice here. Your bulge has decided it's time to come out and play.

You make a half-assed attempt to close your legs, but Kurloz is just a huge fucking dude and you're a weak ass bitch from all that sopor slime, or at least that's what the doctorturer said when you got sent here. Said that shit rotted away at you, stunted your growth in areas it'll take sweeps to recover from.

It scares you how much his human drug makes you feel like you're back there in your hive eating a freshly baked pie. You don't want to go down that fucking road again, you can't, they'll send you off to someplace _worse than this_ -

You're snapped out of your thoughts by something warm and slick pressing against your nook. You moan when you realize it's Kurloz's tongue, lapping firmly and slowly at your entrance. That's definitely not what you were expecting. Your bulge tries wriggling its way into his mouth.

"Sorry man, I don't like dicks," he says, before adding, "although I did have that phase..." He doesn't elaborate, just goes back to what he was doing. He moves your bulge out of the way, but that doesn't seem to work for him. You squirm and let out a surprised chirp when he grabs it and starts fucking you with it - _your own goddamn bulge_ , does he even know how nasty that shit is? That's like ten kinds of fucked up.

"St… f-fuck, _nnhh_ …" You weakly try slapping him away, but the feeling of your own bulge thrashing inside of you coupled with the tight heat around it has you melting, his fingers stroking along your walls and tongue tracing that little bundle of nerves he seems to like so much. Your head falls back when he sucks at it lightly, and you suddenly realize what he's doing. He’s treating your nook like human female genitalia, like they do in all those human-troll pornos. You don't know how it makes you feel. 

"Do you like it when I eat your pussy?" he asks, taking his mouth off of you to speak. Something about the question makes your cheeks heat up, makes you feel microscopic. Although the emasculation is humiliating, you can't deny that you're still getting off, and you can't figure out if you wanna curl up in a corner or grab your fuckin' ankles for him. You cry out when he bites the inside of your thigh, nook clenching around his fingers.

"Answer me," he orders. His mouth is back on you before you can get a response out. You whimper, feeling that familiar tension building up in your lower abdomen again. It's different this time, more intense, pleasure spreading throughout your whole body and making your legs tingle. It's rare as fuck for you to get off without touching your bulge much - maybe once or twice has that miraculous shit happened before today. You don't think you'll ever be able to again without flashing back to this moment. Breathing hard, you try to focus on anything other than the way his tongue is moving against you.

"Tha - that ain't t-technically what -"

" _Yes or no_ ," he growls, the deep rumble reverberating from your groin to every muscle in your body. Your legs seize up, nook contracting as you choke out a strangled " _yes!_ " and come again, harder than the first time, harder than you ever have. The warmth of your own slurry filling your oversensitive nook makes you shake, hips bucking up unintentionally against his merciless mouth.

You come down in a blur, feeling far away. You lie there panting for awhile with your eyes fixed on the ceiling. After a moment, you realize he's no longer between your legs - he's not even in the room. How long did you zone out for?

Getting ahold of yourself, you start sitting up, the pressure on your sore, over-used nook making you wince. Your bulge has already resheathed itself and you're pretty sure everything else down there is done for the night, too. You think you spot your boxers over in the corner. Kurloz re-enters the room as you stand slowly, testing the strength of your legs.

He tosses you a rag and runs a hand through his dark hair. "Clean yourself up, man. I gotta do something about my goddamn sheets."

You nod, blushing, and quickly grab your boxers before heading to the ablution block. You could've wiped yourself down in the same room as him, but that just would've made things even more awkward, and you kind of want to take a shower. It feels like there's a thick layer of grime covering you from head to toe.

You don't speak another word to him for the rest of the night, except for when you decide you need a snack at three A.M. and he's also in the nutrition block, pounding back a soda like his life depends on it. You'd probably find it amusing if he wasn't the last person you wanted to be around right now - you just want to fucking eat in peace, and there's no way he'll ever see you the same after what happened earlier, he probably thinks you're fucking disgusting for letting him do all that shit and getting off on it -

But he just gives you a small nod, throwing out a casual "sup" as you pass by like he wasn't knuckle-deep inside of you hours before. The low lighting and silence makes the moment feel weirdly intimate, tension building in the air around you like electricity during a thunderstorm.

"Nothin'," you mumble, trying to avoid looking at him as you make your way to the refrigerator. You swallow down the lump in your throat and prepare for some sort of uncomfortable interaction, since that seems to be the only type of interaction you two are capable of having, but nope - he's gone before you even get another word out, leaving you alone and confused ( _again_ , you think) in the eerily quiet nutrition block.

You return to your respiteblock after shoveling down a sandwich, feeling kind of unnerved. The weed has fully worn off and you're thinking about earlier, trying to remember everything, trying to digest it. A million questions race through your pan as you lie on the sleeping platform, staring at your own ceiling this time. Why was he so insistent on pailing you? Was it even pailing, without a bucket or his contribution? And does he plan on doing it again? Even worse, does he expect you to fill some sort of human quadrant with him now? You remind yourself that troll social conventions don't matter on Earth - humans fuck all the time, wherever, whenever, with whoever. Quadrants don't necessarily have to come into play.

Still, though. The quadrant shit ain't what's got you all twisted up inside. You just can’t get his face out of your pan, can’t get his voice to stop echoing in your ears. You curl up on the sleeping platform, wishing tonight had gone differently. If you'd been less of an idiot and put some fucking clothes on, he wouldn't have had to do any of that shit, and you two could've just chilled out like bros and enjoyed the night together. You had to go and make shit weird like usual.

You don't even feel the cool tears sliding down your cheeks until you're almost asleep, and by then, all you want to do is let the darkness embrace you.

You do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof that was heavy! poor gamzee :o( let's see how he copes!


End file.
